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I don't understand people's attitude of "they would not fucking listen to that" when it comes to character playlists. Like I'm not making this playlist for the character to listen to. It's for ME to listen to as I daydream about my blorbos. I'm not here to listen to THEIR shitty music taste I'm here to listen to MY shitty music taste tyvm.

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TIL anyone who's going to overwinter in Antarctica has to have had their appendix out. Because removing an appendix that's not causing any trouble just as a precaution is way better than having one that's about to burst when you're on the ass-end of the planet with no way to be rushed to a hospital if shit gets real.

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“Hey Impulse.”

“Oh, hi Tango!”

Tango cast a look around for any hostile mobs, but it seemed not dark enough yet for them to spawn. He sat down next to Impulse, who had his feet in the small brook. The sun was setting, hazy through the world boarder but still pretty. Impulse silently handed him a chunk of dripstone block, which Tango took with a snort.

“Watching the sunset? Didn’t take you as the type,” Tango joked.

“Been down underground for like an hour, felt like I needed to touch grass,” Impulse replied.

“Mining with your gang? Or what?”

“I… no, I was alone for most of today… just making… getting ahead of it, preparing for what comes next, really,” Impulse said evasively.

“Oh, so a creeper farm, then,” Tango guessed.

Impulse chuckled. “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Nope, not a thing. Why wasn’t your team helping you out?”

“Oh, I was just kind of… wanted to be alone, you know? Cramped quarters, what with Scott and Cleo and Pearl and BigB somewhat.”

Tango turned to look at Impulse. Something was different in his friend’s face, like he’d sucked on a bad bit of dripstone and was trying to play it off. “Cramped quarters? Seems unlike you,” he paused. “How is… your team? Cleo and Scott and all of them? Pearl’s died twice, hasn’t she? And she’s going red early again.”

“Pearl’s great,” Impulse replied immediately. “And BigB’s been really nice. I’m not… everyone’s great,” he wasn’t looking at Tango at all.

“Impulse, buddy. I’m not gonna tell-”

“How’s your alliance? Bdubs and Etho treating you well?” Impulse interrupted, rushing to get the words out.

“I…” Tango paused. He thought of the cold stone tower and single bed he was going back to later, the leering face of Bdubs as he told them to act selfishly, only care when it’s convenient.

“Tango?” Impulse had turned in too, putting a hand on Tango’s knee. His face was lined with worry. “Are you-”

“Imagine someone so flippant about betrayal that they just decide that everyone should act in their own interest all the time, then boss us around.” Tango laughed bitterly. “Not even pretending like he’s going to care about us- well, me, really, Etho’s his precious little… thing. I don’t have an allyship, I have a neighborhood where you never know when it’s all gonna be over.”

Impulse laughed. It sounded kind of hollow. “Cleo hates me. I know she does. And Scott follows her lead, they just give me these looks… I’m not… one of them. I keep thinking well if I just work hard enough, save Cleo from mobs, build a creeper farm, maybe they’ll like me and maybe I won’t feel like a damn ghost in my own alliance. I’m not part of their little divorce gang, I’m just… Impulse,” Impulse threw a block of dripstone into the water in a sudden burst of anger. “I- I’m sorry, Tango, it isn’t fair for me to just unload like this on you,” his whole body sagged.

Tango smiled. “I asked, man. I didn’t think I’d say what I said either. Sorry. I know you like Bdubs a lot. It’s just… scars run deep, you know?”

“Scars run deep,” Impulse echoed, looking off over Tango’s shoulder.

Tango turned too, saw Cleo in the distance. “Maybe it’ll all be okay, you know? Maybe this time it’ll be different,” Tango said.

Impulse stood up, helped Tango up too. “Scars run deep, Tango, like you said. Thanks for talking to me. But I have a creeper farm to finish.”

Smiling grimly, Impulse walked back into the forest. Tango considered going after him, finding out the location of the creeper farm, but decided against it. There was no reward for it. And besides, he had a cold and lonely base to get back to, swallowing down the darkness that threatened to overrun him every time he looked Bdubs in the eye.

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it’s monday i’m in the labyrinth

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🦀 ⬅️🆑🆎

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how do you draw pigs

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This is one of my fsvorite pictures and all day at work I was tossing pizza dough and muttering to myself man you bugly af DIE BUG DIE and imagining the bug and smiling

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I can never revisit warrior cats because I'll notice it being really heavily Indigenous coded in a way that's Weird About It. Like more than I already noticed it. And it'll be like plato's cave. I'll reawaken the spirit of my 10 y/o self who read the first two books and hated them passionately bc I found the writing subpar. And no one will believe me when I tell them the subpar "game of thrones, with cats, for kids" books were lowkey racist

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the three

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i don't care if mondays fucked, tuesday wednesday kiss my nuts, thursday this shit fucking sucks, it's friday im in love

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this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

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Vengeance Saga has me acting up

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x

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making a compilation of text posts that knocked sense straight into me

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What's your thoughts on vegan zombies?

I mean like. The abrupt, tragic loss of one's individual identity, memory, and morality, replaced only by hunger, is kind of like. The principal thing about zombies. In my opinion

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I hate that thing some people do where it's like. "I left my wallet on the table to see if you'd say anything" or "I wanted to see if you'd wash the car if I stopped doing it"

Cause like

I dont know about anyone else

But I am perpetually hovering three inches above the strong subconscious belief that everyone knows what they're doing at all times except me, so if you change your normal patterns and I notice, then I will assume it is an intentional choice with a thought-out plan behind it and I will avoid interfering

And if I don't notice, because I won't, because why would I, because not much bothers me and if you don't say anything to indicate you are bothered then how would I KNOW